


Marry You

by dementorsatemysoup



Series: The Archer and the Cop [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daryl Needs To Use His Words, Dudes In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt Daryl, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Sappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times Daryl fails at proposing to Rick and the one time he succeeds... sorta.</p><p>((AKA The one where I'm not ready to accept the mid-season finale yet, so I wrote this to make myself feel better... enjoy))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beth

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my little world of denial where none of the characters are dead and I just write happy things for this show. Please excuse the fluffiness you are about to read, but since I refuse to acknowledge a certain character's death I'm writing this instead.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, drop me a comment if you get the chance, and I don't own anyone.
> 
> Bye!!

_'Cause it's a beautiful night_

_We're looking for something dumb to do_

_Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you_

_\--[Bruno Mars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zlv1rdcpS9M)  
_

* * *

Marriage has always been the furthest thing from Daryl's mind. He'd had a front row seat to his parents' train wreck of a marriage, could clearly remember some of the things they used to say to one another, still heard the sharp _slap_ of a hand connecting with flesh; that alone is enough to turn anyone off of marriage. He'd watched Merle's short lived (really, really shorted lived) marriage implode right in front of him, right down to his brother's ex-wife hurtling her thirty dollar ring at Merle's head, leaving behind a deep gouge inches from his left eye. Hell, he'd even seen the downfall of Rick and Lori's marriage, and while he benefited from that greatly it still left a sour taste in the back of throat, knowing what had to happen in order for him and Rick to be together.

He never wanted to get married, never thought he'd find someone he wanted to marry, so when the idea creeps around in the back of his head for weeks, he figures it's about time he actually toys with the idea. At first, like he's prone to do, he ignores the thought, but it festers like an untreated wound, plaguing every free moment he has, until finally he says, "Fuck it" and decides to go for it. But here lies the problem, how does he go about doing it?

Daryl isn't looking for help when Beth appears at his side, carrying a basket of laundry. She gives him a long look and curiously asks, "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Who says 'm thinkin' about something?" Daryl grumbles stilling his nervous pacing.

"You're wearin' your brooding face and you're pacin' back and forth like a skittish horse during a rainstorm," Beth points out and Daryl scowls at her. "What? It's not my fault you're easy to read."

"Go away," Daryl mutters darkly, fighting the urge to start pacing again.

"Look, I know it ain't my business..."

"You can say that again."

"...but if you wanna talk, I'm here," Beth finishes stubbornly, pretending Daryl hadn't said anything. "C'mon Daryl," she nudges his side with her elbow, "talk to me."

He almost doesn't say anything, but this is Beth. Next to Carol, she's one of the few people in this prison who doesn't go off and blather to the others, so he sighs and mumbles, "It's stupid."

"Did you and Rick have a fight?" Beth asks shifting the basket on her hip, giving him a kind smile. "I'm sure you two will make up..."

"We didn't have a fight." He looks down at his hands, picking at a stubborn hangnail. "I've just been thinkin'..."

"About?"

He shrugs. "Just stuff."

Beth lets out a frustrated sigh, dropping her basket to the floor. She walks towards him, ducking her head so she can look into his eyes, and says, "Don't make me guess because we'll be here all day." When he doesn't say anything she lets out a breath and mutters, "Stubborn ass." She moves back towards her basket, lifting it off the ground. He thinks she's going to walk away, but instead she says, "You two can't have a baby, so that's off the table."

"What?"

"You wanna play the guessing game, Daryl Dixon. We'll play the guessing game." She taps her chin with her index finger, a pensive look crossing her face. "You can't exactly adopt Judith, since lawyers are pretty much nil, and besides she already calls you papa so there's no need to bring that up." She starts pacing, narrowing her eyes. "You're not thinking about breaking up with Rick are you?"

"No," Daryl answers quickly, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to do is leave Rick, and the fact that the thought even crossed Beth's mind leaves him a little irritated.

"I'm just coverin' my bases," she states raising her free hand defensively. "Besides, you two are in it for the long haul, and nothing short of death will..." she trails off, her eyes widening. "Oh my God." She drops her basket again, this time to jump excitedly, and Daryl has to fight not to roll his eyes. "Oh my God," she repeats clutching his arm, beaming up at him.

"Quit it," Daryl grunts pulling out of her grasp. "I haven't done anythin' yet. Yer building a mountain out of a molehill."

"But you've thought about it."

"Yeah," Daryl admits, albeit reluctantly, and takes a step back when Beth squeals. She throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, and he mutters darkly until she lets him go.

"Do you have a ring? When are you gonna do it? I mean, just like Glenn and Maggie's marriage it won't exactly be legal, but I'm sure we can put something together..." she trails off, her eyebrows furrowing, concern flitting across her face. "Why do you look like your suckin' on a lemon?"

Daryl shoves his hands in his pockets, ducking his head, and mumbles, "I don't know how."

"What? Speak up, Dixon. I can't hear ya."

Daryl lets out an irritated breath through his nose and says, "I don't know how."

"Don't know...?" Beth puts her hand to her forehead. "I don't..." she lowers her hand, shaking her head. "Alright, Dixon, I'm gonna help you."

"What?" Daryl vigorously shakes his head, backing away from the blonde. "I don' need any help."

"You do," she insists tapping her chin again. She nods, coming to some sort of decision, and repeats, "I'm gonna help you." She turns to leave, calling over her shoulder, "Just let me get these clothes to Carol, give me ten minutes."

"Beth, really..."

She turns around, continuing to walk backwards, and says, "Relax Daryl. This'll be fun. Rick won't know what hit him." She beams again, waving at him, and then disappears around the corner. Daryl runs his hand down his face, silently wondering how he got himself into this mess.

* * *

"This is stupid," Daryl grunts tugging at his shirt collar.

"Is not," Beth insists slapping his hand away, fixing the tie around his neck again. "I just wish we could have found some cue cards so you could do it like Mark in _Love, Actually_." She fixes the knot one, final time, stepping away from him, and admires her work. She nods in approval and says, "You look handsome."

He turns, looking in the bathroom mirror, and grumbles, "I look stupid." He turns back to her and adds, "Besides, that pansy was tryin' to steal his best friend's wife."

"He was not, he was just..." Beth trails off, her mouth falling open in surprise, and she points at Daryl.

"Shut up." He walks past her, but only makes it a few steps before turning back. "I don' even have a ring."

"You don't need one." She pats his chest, giving him an encouraging smile. "Just look him in the eyes and say..."

"I know, I know," Daryl says and walks away from her.

"Good luck," she calls after him, and when he waves off her words she giggles.

About halfway to his and Rick's cell, Daryl yanks the tie off and shoves it in his pocket. It's irritating and stupid, and he silently wonders what possessed Beth to even suggest a tie. Daryl's never been a 'formal wear' kind of guy, even before the outbreak, and nothing will ever make him one.

Eventually, after nearly turning around three times, Daryl finds himself outside of their cell. He draws in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly. His hands are shaking with nervous energy, his fingers twitching, and he feels like he's going to throw up. Daryl swallows, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in his throat. He's being an idiot, he just needs to step up and do it. He steps forward, hand reaching out to move the curtain to the side, but he freezes when he hears tiny footsteps approaching him.

Daryl turns, giving Judith a small smile, and asks, "What are you doin' up?"

"I had a bad dream," Judith answers wrapping her tiny arms around herself, her stuffed dragon dangling from her left hand. Worry pierces Daryl's chest, but he fights to keep it off his face as he kneels down next to Judith. She throws her arms around his neck, clutching tightly to him when he stands, and whispers, "Can I sleep with you and Daddy tonight?"

"Yeah," Daryl answers readily. He doesn't like the idea of Judith having nightmares, but he welcomes the distraction. It's a dumb idea anyway, getting married. He and Rick aren't the marrying kind, he doesn't even know what he had been thinking. He'll just have to tell Beth that he's changed his mind, and tell her 'tough shit' when she tries to argue. He and Rick are fine where they are; they don't need to be anything more.

That still doesn't temper the disappointment that's settled in Daryl's stomach.


	2. Maggie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this chapter came to me while I was brushing my teeth. So, yeah.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to those who read the first chapter, doubly to those who commented, kudo'd, or subscribed. I'm glad you all liked the first chapter, and I hope you like this one, too.
> 
> So, thanks for reading, leave me a comment if you have the time, and I still don't own anyone.
> 
> Bye!!

 

It takes a lot of willpower, but Daryl finally gets the idea of marriage out of his head, only to have it brought back up a few days later. He's sitting against the wall in the library, _Fahrenheit 451_ balanced on his bent knees, chewing his thumbnail as he reads the book. Before the outbreak, he hadn't been much of a reader, but now he can't exactly sit down and watch The History Channel, so it's either reading or nothing, even if it's a book about censorship (something that makes him laugh seeing as censorship is the least of their problems).

He turns the page, rubbing at his eyes with his freehand. He reads the first two lines, stopping when a shadow suddenly falls over him. Slowly, he looks up from his book, furrowing his eyebrows when he finds Maggie grinning down at him. "What?"

"I was talking to Beth earlier..."

 _So much for Beth keeping her mouth shut_ , Daryl thinks with a frustrated sigh. He shakes his head and grumbles, "She doesn't know shit."

"Oh, I beg to differ, Dare." Maggie's grin turns smug as she offers Daryl her hand. "C'mon, I'm gonna help ya do this right. You're not a speech kind of guy, Daryl. You're more subtle than that."

He glares at her hand, refusing to take it. "Why can't ya Greene sisters leave me alone."

"Because we love ya. Now take my hand." She wiggles her fingers, and he feels his resolve crack. He closes his book, accepts her hand, and pulls himself to his feet. He has just enough time to shove his book in his back pocket before being unceremoniously dragged from the room.

* * *

"Alright, here," Maggie says shoving a bottle of vanilla scented lotion in his hands.

"What the hell am I gonna do with this?" Daryl glares at the bottle, opening the cap and sniffing it. He jerks his head back, the lotion much stronger than he thought it'd be, and screws the cap back on.

"You're gonna use it on Rick."

"What?" Daryl feels himself flush red and he stammers, "I-I don' think we should be talkin' about that."

"Oh jeez, Daryl." She shakes her head, laughing softly. "I didn't mean  _that_. I meant a massage." She turns away from him, moving towards the corner. There's a crooked bookshelf shoved against the wall, Glenn having made it three years ago for Maggie, and she removes an item from it. When she's facing him again, Maggie holds out a tape player, waiting for him to take it. "You just play him some music, set the mood, and while he's relaxed you ask him."

Ignoring the tape player, Daryl fixes Maggie with a probing stare and asks, "Durin' this conversation with Beth, did she happen to mention I decided not to ask him."

"She did, but she and I both agree that's a stupid decision." She beams at Daryl, reminding the archer of her sister, and he curses the day he ever met the Greenes.

"Y'all nosy shits," he mutters darkly, but takes the tape player. "I'm figurin' ya got a song in mind, too." She she raises her eyebrows, giving him a 'what-do-you-think' look, and he hangs his head. "Figures."

* * *

Daryl listens to six seconds of the song Maggie picked before muttering, "Fuck this." He turns the tape player off, shaking his head, and leaves it sitting on the kitchen counter. He does grab the lotion, scowling at the bottle, and carries it towards his and Rick's cell. He finds the other man sitting on their cot, pulling his boots off, but he looks up when Daryl enters the cell.

"Hey," he says with a smile. "Where ya been today?"

"Around," the hunter mutters shrugging, clutching the bottle tightly in his hand.

"Whatcha got?" Rick asks curiously, getting to his feet. He moves across the room, taking the lotion from Daryl's hand. He gives the archer a questioning look, and Daryl feels himself flush red.

"I-it's not for that," he stammers running a hand through his hair. "I just, um..." Why does he get himself into these situations? "Would ya like a massage?"

Rick lifts an eyebrow, a smirk playing across his lips. "A massage?"

"You don' have to if you don'..."

"Nah, it's fine." Rick unbuttons his flannel shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders, letting it fall into a heap on the floor. "My shoulder's been bothering me." He grabs Daryl's hand, pulling him towards their cot. "I can do you next."

"I don' really need one," Daryl mutters shuffling his feet.

"Wasn't talkin' 'bout a message," Rick retorts and the hunter flushes again.

The ex-lawman lays stomach down on the cot, resting his head on his bent arms, patiently waiting for Daryl to start. The hunter unbuttons his flannel sleeves, rolling them up past his elbows, and uncaps the lotion. He squeezes a bit into his hand, wrinkling his nose at the smell, and sets the bottle onto the floor. Bending over Rick, he rubs his hands together, smearing the moisturizer into his skin, and then rests his hands against warm, tanned skin.

"Which shoulder? The right one again?" When Rick nods, Daryl pressing his thumb into the muscle, feeling the other man tense under his hand. "Am I hurtin' you?" he asks uncertainly, nearly pulling his hand away.

"No, keep going," Rick replies and Daryl does as he's told, kneading the area with the heel of his palm. He doesn't quite know what he's doing, never actually giving anyone a massage before, but Rick appears to be enjoying it, so Daryl keeps doing what he's doing.

Soon the cell smells strongly of vanilla, Rick's shoulder seems to be doing better, and Daryl still hasn't figured out how he's going to approach the subject of marriage. Several times he opened his mouth to say something, but the words kept getting stuck in his throat. It's frustrating and he's about to give up, but he knows if he doesn't ask Maggie and Beth may very well ask Rick _for_ him, so he clears his throat and says, "Rick, I wanna ask ya somethin'." When Rick doesn't respond, Daryl moves closer to him and finds the other man fast asleep. With a sigh, the archer pulls the blanket over the slumbering man, gently squeezing the back of his neck.

He'll just have to ask later.


	3. Glenn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much mushiness... so. much. mushiness. Sorry.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the comments last chapter. You guys are amazing. Also thanks to those who kudo'd recently or are keeping up with this story. Y'all make me want to write.
> 
> So, thanks for reading, and drop me a comment if you have the chance.

Before the outbreak, Daryl hadn't listened to a lot of music. He always found Merle's taste in music too loud, the modern stuff always sounded too uppity, and anything country reminded him too much of his dad. Now, he doesn't have much to do for entertainment, reading only getting him so far, so sometimes he'll steal Maggie and Glenn's tape player, take it to the roof, and listen to old tapes.

The one he's listening to now has ' _Fantasmic 80's'_   written in a messy scrawl on a piece of tape stuck to the A-side. He's sitting on the ledge, one leg tucked under his body, the other dangling over the edge, while he cleans his gun, a pair of yellow earphones shoved in his ears. The left speaker goes out occasionally, and the right one has some static, but he's not about to start complaining. He's also not sure what the song's title is, but he likes the slow beat. If all music had been like this, he would have listened to it more often.

He senses more than sees someone sit across from him and slowly he looks up to find Glenns staring at him, a pensive look on his face. Daryl pulls the headphones out of his ears, raising his eyebrows. "What?"

For a long moment, Glenn doesn't say anything, but finally he shakes his head and says, "I can't believe you're thinking about marrying Rick."

"God dammit," Daryl grumbles moodily, turning the cassette player off. "Them damn Greene sisters..."

Glenns raises his hands defensives. "Hey, it's fine. I just want to help." 

"Well I don' want any help." Daryl folds his arms across his chest, glaring at the ground. "'m not even sure I wanna ask anymore anyway. Keep getting interrupted."

"Just because you've run into a few problems doesn't mean you should stop." When the hunter rolls his eyes, the younger guy quickly adds, "No, listen. You've just gotta, I don't know, get Rick out of the prison. Take him fishing or something."

"Fishin'? With what?"

"Or _something_ ," Glenn states stressing the second word. "I'm pretty sure I said 'or something.'" His eyes suddenly widen, and he picks up the tape player, waving it in Daryl's face. "I know!" He jumps off the ledge, nearly dragging Daryl with him, the headphones still around the older man's neck. "Sorry, sorry!" Glenn exclaims his face turning red. He waits until Daryl untangles himself, the hunter giving him an irritated.

"I said I was sorry," Glenn mutters when Daryl hands over the headphones. He then rushes off, calling over his shoulder, "Come on!"

* * *

"Where are we going?" Rick asks curiously following Daryl out of the gate. The hunter doesn't reply, but he does glare at Glenn when the younger guy gives him two thumbs up. This is, by far, the stupidest plan he has ever heard, and this includes the Greene sisters' ideas. Daryl doesn't even know why he's going along with it until he feels Rick squeeze his fingers briefly. Yeah, okay, he knows exactly why he's doing this. It still doesn't mean this is a good idea.

They end up in a small clearing, about fifteen minutes from the prison. Daryl spreads out an oliver green sheet, sitting down on top of it. Rick raises an eyebrow curiously, but lowers himself onto the ground, next to the hunter. Daryl puts his crossbow to the side and shrugs off his bag, opening it. He digs around the tape player, pulling out a bottle of water and two granola bars.

"I thought we'd have a picnic or whatever," he mumbles handing Rick one of the bars.

"A picnic?" A small, teasing smile plays across the ex-cop's face as he takes the granola bar from Daryl . "Is this a date, Daryl Dixon?" the hunter flushes red, averting his eyes. He opens his granola bar, shoving half of it into his mouth, and chews it vigorously. "Wouldn't mind," Rick states softly, running his fingertips up and down Daryl's hand. "We've been together damn near six months. 'bout time." He grinned when the archer threw him an incredulous look. "I'm only kidding."

"Yer not as funny as you think," Daryl grunts and Rick laughs softly, moving his hand so he can lace their fingers together.

For a while they sit in silence, passing the water bottle back and forth, but eventually Daryl gently pulls his hand out of Rick's, grabbing his bag. He ignores the questioning look the other man gives him, pulling the tape player from his backpack. His hands are shaking a little, and he wills them to stop, but to no avail. He hits play, pushing himself to his feet, and offers Rick a hand as a soft, slow melody starts playing (the same one from that morning).

"Alright," the ex-cop says accepting the hand, "but I gotta tell ya, I ain't much of a dancer."

"Me neither," Daryl replies trying to remember where to put his hands. Maggie had tried to show him, but he had been more preoccupied with not stepping on her feet to pay much attention. He recalled something about one hand going on the waist, but he just can't remember the rest. God, this is such a bad idea.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?" Rick ducks his head, trying to catch Daryl's eyes.

"Just don' know what I'm doin'," he admits with a resigned sigh.

"That's the beauty about being alone," Rick starts resting both of his hands on the archer's hips, "ain't no one gonna judge us for being shitty dancers." Daryl smiles shyly, ducking his head, but still puts his arms around the ex-cop's shoulders.

"Feel stupid," he grumbles feeling a little self-conscious.

"You look fine," Rick insists resting his forehead against Daryl's, rocking them back and forth, their bodies swaying to the music. "I like this song."

"Me too."

They're quiet for the rest of the song and well into the next, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. They're invading each others space, their faces mere inches apart, eyes locked, and it's such an intimate moment that neither one wants to shatter it just yet with their words, but Daryl also knows this is the perfect opportunity to ask. He opens his mouth, but his words die on his lips when a hand suddenly grips his gun and Rick whispers, "Duck."

Years of unbroken trust has Daryl hitting the ground seconds before a gunshot echoes around the clearing. He sits up, watching as a walker crumples to the ground, Rick standing protectively over him, gripping Daryl's gun tightly in his hand, his sharp, blue eyes scanning the immediate area.

"We should head back," the ex-cop suggests handing Daryl his gun. The archer nods, dragging himself to his feet. He puts his gun back in the waistband of his jeans, and quickly shoves all his stuff back in his bag, silently cursing the most recent interruption.

Asking Rick should not be this hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I listened to a couple songs while writing this, trying to figure out which song they could dance to, and I think the one I settled on is U2's With or Without You. But you're more than welcome to substitute it with whatever song you want.


	4. Sasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter frustrated me a little bit. I'm not sure if it's the direction it went or what, but I was about six seconds away from scrapping it and rewriting everything (which, while not a big feat would have still been a little annoying). Luckily, I didn't have to (even though I'm still not 100% okay with it).
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the comments last chapter, everyone in this story belongs to someone who is not me, and thanks for reading.

Needing to get out of the prison for a while, tired of the sympathetic smiles Beth and Maggie keep giving him and the constant, unwanted advice from Glenn, Daryl decides to go hunting. Usually he takes Carl and Sasha with him, but Carl had had watch the night before, and hadn't been awake when Daryl set out, but Sasha still went with him, silently following him out of the gate.

Neither speaks for a long while, both taking their time checking the snares and ensuring their hunting area is clear of anything hostile, but eventually, when they're hiding and waiting for an animal to wander into their path, Sasha softly comments, "What's this I hear about you asking Rick to marry you."

"What the...?" Daryl trails off, rolling his eyes. "Who told ya?"

"Glenn may have mentioned it." Sasha shrugs, looking down the scope of her rifle. "Why haven't you done it, yet?"

"Keep gettin' interrupted," Daryl grunts fiddling with his crossbow strap.

"What have you tried so far?" Sasha glances over at him, giving him a curious look.

"Glenn didn' tell you?"

"Maybe," she replies nonchalantly, "but I wanna hear it from you."

"It's just stupid stuff," Daryl murmurs rubbing the side of his nose with his thumb. He drops his hand, clenching it into a fist. "Beth suggested some stupid speech, Maggie a massage, Glenn a picnic and dancing..." he flushes, making it a point too  _not_ look at Sasha.

"I never took you for a romantic, Daryl." He finally looks at her, and she smirks at him, but still asks, "What interrupted you?"

"Judith, Rick fell asleep, a walker..." The hunter ticked each distraction off on his fingers. "'bout ready to say fuck it."

She's quiet for a long while, and Daryl actually thinks they're done talking about it (something he'd appreciate), but that'd be asking too much and instead she says, "Alright, how would you do it?"

"What?"

"Propose? If it were up to you, no interference from anyone, how would you do it?"

"That's the thing," Daryl says after a pause, letting his eyes scan the area, silently wishing an animal would show up. "I don' know what I wanna do."

"Well, Dixon, you'd better figure it out," Sasha says softly just as a doe creeps out from behind a tree, "'cause it's not exactly personal if you have us plan it for you."

* * *

They bring the doe and three rabbits back, and Daryl lets Sasha's words roll around in his head while he skins the animals. She has a point; he's been relying on everyone else to plan this proposal for him when he should be doing it himself. Granted, it's not like he asked any of his friends for help, they just sort of butted in on their own accord, but that still doesn't make Sasha any less right.

In the end, Daryl decides to make Rick something and do it over dinner. He's not much of a cook, having lived off hot dogs and macaroni before the outbreak and after having no inclination (or the supplies) to become a better chef, but he knows how to make meat look less raw, so he uses the little hotplate to make a couple of deer steaks, slapping Carl's hand away when he tries to steal a bite.

"Jeez," the younger man says, narrowing his eyes at the hunter. "What's the special occasion?"

"None of ya business," Daryl grunts flipping one of the steaks. "Go have rabbit stew with the others." Grumbling, Carl stalks away, but Daryl ignores him, continuing to cook his steak.

Neither one come out very good, one's burnt, the other a little too pink, but it's the thought that counts. He puts both steaks on a plate, grabs two forks (it's a special occasion, he's going to use a fork), and carries everything towards the guard tower. Rick is sitting in the lawn chair, looking through the binoculars, but he lowers them when Daryl enters the tower.

"Hey," he greets with a smile, letting the binoculars thump against his chest. "What's up?"

"You hungry?" Daryl holds the plate up. "I made ya something."

"You did?" Rick sits up a little straighter, looking at the food. "You didn't have to."

The archer shrugs, carrying the steaks across the room. He hands the plate to Rick, lowering himself onto the floor, and gestures to the ex-deputy to hand it back, only to reel back. Rick has turned a startling shade of gray, his eyes squeezed shut, his breathing a little shallow. Suddenly, he's on his feet, the steaks falling to the floor with a loud clatter, and staggering to the window, vomiting over the edge.

The food forgotten, Daryl scrambles to his feet, grabbing the other man around the middle, keeping him from face planting off the guard tower. He'll later find out it's a twelve hour bug, but for right now he's worried and a little convinced his cooking has done something to the other man. This is what he gets for trying to plan a future; maybe he really should give up.

 


	5. Carol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :(
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting last chapter, I love hearing from y'all, and I still don't own anyone.
> 
> Also, this chapter ended up a little on the angsty side which wasn't my intention while writing it, but that's the road I ended up following.
> 
> Enjoy!

Daryl's not exactly hiding, but he also doesn't want to be found, so he retreated to the basement. He's sitting against the wall, fixing the trigger on his bow, 'Fantasmic 80's' playing softly in his ears. He's not even sure why he keeps listening to the tape, most of the songs are cheesy love songs, but it's kind of helping him sort through this marriage predicament. Plus, it isn't butting into his life like everyone else seems to be doing lately, and in his books that's a major plus. Beth would say he's brooding, and maybe he is, but he can't help feeling a bit like a failure.

Failure is something Daryl has felt several times in his life. Growing up, his dad hadn't exactly instilled a lot of self-confidence in him, and Merle hadn't been much better. Failing a class (back when he actually gave a crap), accidentally making a mess, crashing his bike into a tree, finding out Sophia had become one of _them_ , knowing the group could starve or freeze to death at any moment, watching Rick have his breakdown; it all weighed down on Daryl and made him feel like he's incapable of doing anything right. That his only contribution in life is letting everyone he loves down in some way; that they'll eventually grow tired of his screw ups and leave him alone in this dark world. It's a constant badgering in his ear, reminding him that he's nothing, that he'll always be nothing, and he should just cut his losses and move on before he fucks something else up.

And right now he's feeling that familiar, slow trickle of failure making itself at home in the back of his mind, an unwanted guest that's telling him he's nothing more than a screw up, asking him over and over: _How can you be a quasi-husband to the guy you love when you can't even ask him a simple fucking question?_ It's an old enemy, his own self-hatred, one that he still hasn't fully shaken even after years of being around his makeshift family, and he hates it. Hates these feelings; hates that they can still affect him like this, and the only thing he wants to do is climb to the top of the prison and scream at the top of his lungs. But as much as he wants to, he refrains because giving in means his demons have won and Daryl stopped letting them win a long time ago.

He's about halfway through some upbeat song when he feels someone sit next to him. He turns his head and Carol waves at him, motioning for him to remove his headphones. He slides them off his head, letting them rest against his shoulders. She nudging him with her shoulder and says, "You'll figure it out."

Next to Rick, Carol knows him best, and Daryl doesn't have to ask her what she means; they've known each other too long. So, instead of demanding which nosy shit told her, he opts to shrug, toying with the tape player.

"You'll figure it out," she repeats squeezing his hand between hers, resting her head on his shoulder. Her words don't make his self-doubts magically disappear, but they do remind him that the group isn't going to up and abandon him. Not Carol; not Rick; not anyone, and while he still doesn't have a clue how he's going to ask Rick, he knows Carol isn't wrong. He'll figure it out.

Hopefully.

* * *

They go on a run the next day. Rick, Glenn, and Sasha in the truck, Daryl and Carl on the bike. Maggie and Beth get the gate, both waving as the vehicles drive past them. The ride into town is pretty quiet, save for the stupid song Daryl has stuck in his head. In town, they split up into two groups: Glenn, Sasha and Carl go one way while Daryl and Rick go the other.

Once they're out of hearing range, Rick turns to Daryl and asks, "Are you alright? You've been quieter than usual the past few days."

"'m fine," the archer replies letting his eyes scan the road, making it a point to  _not_ look at the ex-deputy. If he looks at Rick now, he's going to give something away, he knows it, and right now is not the time to ask. Granted, it never seems like the right time to ask, so asking here probably wouldn't make a difference.

"You sure?"

"Let's try this place," Daryl suggest, ignoring the question, walking away from the other man. He feels Rick's eyes on the back of his head, but he makes an effort not to look back as he ducks into the dilapidated pawn shop.

"Are you mad at me or something?" Rick asks as he follows Daryl inside, keeping at least a foot between them. He sounds worried, like he's convinced he actually did something, and the archer feels his heart clench in his chest.

"It's nothing," he repeats turning to face the ex-cop. "I jus' got some things on my mind."

"Like?"

"Jus' some things." Daryl can tell Rick doesn't like the answer, and if he had a better one he'd give it to the other man, but he doesn't want to blurt out the question next to an 'Ass, Grass, or Gas' sign. So, to keep himself preoccupied, he starts searching shelves, very much aware of Rick shooting him furtive looks the entire time. It's quiet far for too long, and Daryl almost breaks the silence twice, but Rick beats him to it.

"You can tell me," he points out, speaking slowly, almost carefully, poking around a pile of old magazines. "I ain't gonna be mad."

"Rick, I swear, it ain't anything."

"Then why won't you tell me."

They're heading towards argument territory, Daryl can feel it, and the last thing he wants is to have a fight with Rick, so he quietly says, "I ain't mad at you, alright, but I can't tell ya. At least not yet."

"Why?"

"Because..." Daryl's words are drowned out by a sudden cracking sounds, and he looks up to see a rafter swinging down towards Rick. He doesn't even realize he's moving until he's across the store, shoving the ex-deputy out of the way. Rick hits the ground hard, skidding across the wooden floor, but at least he's safe. Daryl isn't, the beam collapsing on him, knocking him to the floor.

The last thing he hears is someone shouting his name before everything blinks out.

 


	6. Rick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never kill my favorite characters... often.
> 
> With that being said, thank you so much for the comments last chapter. I am so sorry for that cliffhanger, but it's been part of the story since I started writing it. Granted, the ending didn't come out like I wanted it to, but it works for me. So, here's hoping it works for you.
> 
> Anyway, Happy Holidays to those who celebrate them and Happy Thursday to those who don't, and thanks so much for following this story to the end. I'll try to put up another sometime soon... ish. And thanks for reading.
> 
> Bye!!

_The coffee is piping hot, Daryl managing to snag the last cup before Maggie and Beth drank it all. He's never been a big coffee drinker, but he knows Rick loves the stuff, so he decided to surprise the ex-deputy that morning, ducking into his and Rick's cell. He smiles when he finds the other man still asleep, one leg tangled in their blankets, his arms wrapped tightly around Daryl's pillow, and it's so damn cute that the archer almost doesn't want to wake the other man up, but he also knows that if he doesn't Judith will. So he_ _puts the mug onto a stool, and crosses the room quietly, sitting on the edge of the cot. He hesitates for a moment before running a hand through Rick's tangled, curly hair. The other man stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and he smiles up at the hunter._

_"Hey," Rick says softly, his voice hoarse from sleep. He picks his head up when he smells the coffee, giving Daryl a fond look, and the hunter shrugs his shoulders."Have I ever told you I love you?"_

_"'bout a thousand times," Daryl murmurs shyly, looking down at his lap. "Love ya, too."_

_"Then why haven't you asked me, yet?"_ _The question startles Daryl, his head snapping up so he can look into Rick's eyes, the ex-cop's gaze curious. "Life's short, Daryl. Just ask me."_

_"How...?"_

_"Just ask." The ex-deputy winks, stroking the archer's _cheek, a small smile on his face. "_ Now wake up." _

* * *

Daryl's head is killing him, a persistent throbbing right behind his eyes that reminds him too much of when he used to live with his dad. Add that to the nasty, sickening pain coming from his left shoulder, and it's enough evidence to prove he's not dead. He gets more proof when he feels a pair of cracked lips press against his forehead and a voice whisper, "You have to wake up."

"'m wake," he groans, forcing his eyelids open, his vision blurry.

He blinks in an attempt to clear it, the fuzzy blob hovering over him slowly morphing into Rick. A shaky, brittle smile flits across the ex-deputy's face, his eyes filling with unshed tears, and he whispers, "Hi. How you feeling?"

"Beam didn't kill me," Daryl answers squeezing his eyes shut when the pain in his head spikes.

"No, it didn't." He feels Rick sit next to him, the ex-cop's fingers trailing down the back of his hand. "Please don't do that again."

"What?" the archer peels his eyes open, giving Rick an incredulous look. "Save your life?"

"No." the ex-deputy leans down, pressing his lips to the archer's. "Nearly die," he whispers kissing Daryl again, gently stroking his temple with his thumb. He breaks the kiss, moving his face so he can press his nose into Daryl's hair. "I can't lose you."

"You won't," Daryl insists hesitating for a few seconds before wrapping an arm around the other man's waist, giving him a quasi-hug. He'd like to sit up, but he also would very much like to avoid throwing up on Rick, so Daryl opts to stay lying down; it'd be safer for everyone.

They stay like that for a long time, but eventually Rick sits up and clears his throat. He rubs at his red eyes and says, "A couple of inches to the left and you wouldn't be here."

"Can't say the same 'bout my shoulder," Daryl replies glancing over at it. It's been bound in a makeshift sling, keeping it in place as best as it can, and he recognizes Bob's work immediately from the number of times one of their group ended up injured (mostly him and Rick). "Not gonna lose it am I?" He meant it as a joke, but he has a feeling he sounded more scared than anything.

"Nah." Rick shakes his head, studying the banaged closely. "Probably give you some trouble, but it'll survive." He offers Daryl a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks down at his lap, taking Daryl's hand between both of his, and quietly says, "About the pawn shop..."

"Hey, no, Rick..." the archer waits until the ex-deputy looks up before continuing, "For the past..." this should not be so hard. "Look, I just..." why wouldn't the words come out? This is getting ridiculous. "I wanna marry ya, okay?" Daryl blurts out with a frustrated sigh, and immediately wishes he could do it over because he doubts yelling his proposal is a  _great_ start to spending the rest of their lives together.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, covering his face with his hands. "That wasn't how I..." he shakes his head, officially giving up.

"Is that why Glenn gave me these?"

Daryl slowly lowers his hands, giving the two wedding bands in Rick's hand a suspicious look. He snorts, shaking his head back and forth, and mutters, "Figures."

"I wouldn't mind," Rick says softly, toying with the rings in his hand. "You know, if you don't mind being stuck with me."

"You can be a pain in the ass," Daryl comments fighting a grin, "but I guess I'll suck it up."

"You're not as funny as you think, Dixon." The ex-cop playfully glares at the archer, but he, too, is fighting a smile. He then holds out one of the rings, waiting for Daryl to take it. When he does, Rick's face is suddenly serious when he says, "You gotta promise me you'll be more careful."

"You too," Daryl whispers fiddling with the ring in his hand. "I can' lose you, neither."

"Alright." He grabs the archer's left hand, sliding the ring onto his ring finger, and says, "I love ya."

Daryl returns the favor, grabbing a fistful of the ex-deputy's shirt. He pulls the other man down, giving him a kiss, and whispers against his lips, "Love ya, too." So, it took five failed attempts and nearly dying for Daryl to realize he's shit at using his words, but he did succeed in the end. Now he just needs to figure out if he should thank Glenn or kill him.

He hasn't decided yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending is too sappy, but I cannot bring myself to apologize.


End file.
